In doing research for a class I’m teaching this summer, I realized that the definitions of colonialism that come up in a Google search are somewhat lacking in perspective. I thought I would add a couple more.

COLONIALISM:

“An enduring relationship of domination and mode of dispossession, usually (or at least initially) between an Indigenous (or enslaved) majority and a minority of interlopers (colonizers), who… pursue their own interests, and exercise power through a mixture of coercion, persuasion, conflict and collaboration.” (From the Dictionary of Human Geography, 2009, p. 94)

“Settler colonialism… strives for the dissolution of native societies… it erects a new colonial society on the expropriated land base—as I put it, settler colonizers come to stay: invasion is a structure not an event.” (From Wolfe, 2006, p. 388)

In this study, I was interested in looking at what Indigenous health organizations do in urban communities, above and beyond providing health services. These organizations clearly have a role in providing community support, and I wondered if this support might translate into political representation or link to broader political struggles.

I chose the terminology of rights in order to get at this concept, and asked people in interviews and focus groups, 

“Do you feel that your rights are respected in Prince George, in terms of health care services?”

People often said no.

“Indigenous rights” is a colonial term, referencing the Constitution Act and several court decisions over the past forty years.

Focusing on the concept of Indigenous rights has been controversial, with many scholars arguing that “rights” and “recognition” are not actually that useful for Indigenous peoples in Canada. Many of these scholars use the term “resurgence” instead.

Resurgence describes the ways in which Indigenous communities are undertaking political, cultural and legal rebuilding. Resurgence takes place without the intervention of the Canadian state; it is led, supported, and achieved by Indigenous peoples and Indigenous communities.

The role of Indigenous-led health and social service organizations might not be promoting Indigenous rights and recognition through the government – but to provide spaces and mechanisms through which Indigenous community resurgence can be supported in the city.

Sitting by the window in the library one day, I overheard a sleeping man being woken and in hostile tones being asked to show his student or membership card. He couldn’t, and so was escorted out. At the time I was reading about power and oppression in the guise of colonialism.

The overheard encounter made me think about where I was and who I am – or, maybe more importantly, who I am perceived to be. No one came over to me and asked to see my ID card. Mind you, I wasn’t sleeping. But why is sleeping in a warm place with comfortable couches such an act of transgression? This in turn made me think about place.

Much has been written about doing research “in the field” – about the spaces of research that are out there, in the real world. We read about community engagement, about forming research partnerships and drawing up research agreements and how to conduct yourself as ethically as possible. We read about researchers’ daily struggles with community-based research, whether “cross-cultural” or within one’s own culture. But what about the quiet spaces – the public, private, or policed spaces – that we occupy on a daily basis in preparation to meet the “real world”? I spend more time in my office and in libraries than I will ever spend “in the field.”

These are protected spaces, where I am sheltered from the people I do research with. Where I am encouraged to think, reflect, and engage in dialogue with other academics – exclusively. Where people without a membership card are asked none too politely to leave. What kind of impact does this have on the research that I do?

Before I come back to posting about the research I’d like to explain my absence from this site for the past several months. When I came to Prince George to do interviews last October I was pregnant. In February of this year I lost the baby. After carrying him for eight months he died, suddenly and inexplicably, in the womb. I don’t have much more to say about it except that I’m sure you can imagine this has affected my progress and process in doing this research. I will be back to Prince George as soon as I can manage. And I wanted to honour him here by telling the truth.